


Replacement

by Bjurnberg



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Good Ending, Brief mention of suicidal tendencies, Bruce is trying okay, DC doesn't believe in canon and neither do I, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Swearing, batfam, nothing on screen, shouting/uppercase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29777283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bjurnberg/pseuds/Bjurnberg
Summary: Tim is exhausted and can't take Jason's verbal abuse anymore.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	Replacement

Tim could barely think. It was too much. There was too much.

Jason had come into his office in the Manor and was screaming at him again for some reason. Every reason. Any reason, just pick one. And his brain felt like it was in an echo chamber with old modem dial-up tones.

He wanted to tune it all out. Couldn’t. It was too much. His head was screaming and he hadn’t slept well in a month and he hadn’t eaten today and he had three deadlines for Wayne Enterprises and two more for Batman’s case files and and and and

“and are you even listening, Replacement?”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!!”

Jason just scoffed in reply, “Finally growing a backbone? Whatcha gonna do about it, Replacement?”

“I’m NOT your fucking REPLACEMENT!! Bruce never wanted me!”

That caught him off guard. Jason froze for a split second before snarling back, “He gave you Robin.”

“I STOLE ROBIN!! Made my own fucking suit cuz the one YOU were given got locked in a display case with a lie on the placard. I had to fight for any amount of training, and wasn’t allowed to leave the computer chair for a whole year! You think I was welcomed in the second you died??!”

Tim was pacing the office (when had he stood?) waving his arms around and pointing accusingly at Jason, who was still standing by the open door.

He flinched at the mention of his death. The subject was taboo in the Manor. Anyone who even made an oblique reference to it got the evil eye from Bruce for a couple days, and was assigned the worst patrols.

Jason’s shoulders squared up though, anger rising for being screamed at, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak Tim interrupted.

“You have NO idea what it was like here when you were dead.”

Green eyes narrowed and Jason’s face went dark. “Peaceful, I bet.”

“You know nothing,” Tim spat back. “We had Bruce on suicide watch most nights. He would wake from nightmares screaming your name and it was all Alfred and I could do to stop him joining you.”

Jason froze. Then lurched half a step forward, arm raised as if to grasp support but found none.

Tim stopped his pacing, making sure the desk was between him and Jason. But he didn’t move forward again.

“You call me Replacement but I had to blackmail my way into this house. I was never chosen for this. I was never wanted. All Bruce wanted was you back. I fought every day to keep him alive and you have the AUDACITY to believe he would forget about you and move on.”

Jason’s arm finally dropped, and he looked aside, not even trying to meet Tim’s gaze.

“No one told me.”

A bitter laugh ripped from Tim’s throat before he could think to stop it. He’d already said too much, why stop now? (Should he stop? Could he at this point? Too much, there was too much.)

“You never stopped trying to kill us long enough to listen.” Tim raised his chin high, stretching the skin of his neck to make the scar Jason gave him stand out. Green eyes flicked a glance at it before squeezing shut, along with his fists pressing into his thighs.

On instinct Tim did a quick survey of which weapons Jason could be hiding, and the best escape routes. It didn’t matter that Bruce had sworn his adopted son was reformed and allowed home; Tim couldn’t trust words alone. He’d seen what Pit Madness did to a person. How fast the mood could shift.

“The only reason I’m here is because I threatened to expose Batman, and he was too depressed to care. So don’t you ever call me Replacement again.”

He was shaking. Adrenaline letdown, his mind supplied in the clinical way it assessed his physical needs. Once that thought was realized several others pounced: hungry, tired, headache, fear, deadlines, deadlines, STAY ALERT DANGER NEAR, exhausted, stop, just stop, (I want a hug), just fall asleep that’ll make it stop.

His legs gave out.

Jason lunged forward, and Tim recoiled so hard his back hit the wall beside his desk.

“DON’T!!”

Jason stopped. Didn’t move closer.

The shaking was getting worse, and he was so so tired and all he wanted to do was crash but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the man between him and the door. Too many memories of fear and pain were flooding his brain, filling his muscles with flight instinct, but he couldn’t move.

Logically he understood Jason had meant to help. To catch him. Logically he knew Jason was working to reform; seeing a therapist, meditating, and had disposed of his guns before moving back to the Manor.

Logic left him as he collapsed on his side, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

Everything hurt.

Mind, body, spirit.

“...kid...?” Jason’s voice sounded far away.

He couldn’t stop the sobs from making his body heave. Nor could he stop, apparently, the words that tumbled from his mouth. (He’d already said too much. There was still too much. Maybe he broke the dam and he would never stop again.)

“I just wanted a family!” He gasped. “I just wanted someone to want me! I’ve never been wanted. My own parents didn’t want me. Never wanted me. Never loved...”

Air was getting harder to come by. Lungs couldn’t keep up with the words that refused to stop. “Robin cared. Robin always cared about kids. Always helped. Gave food and hugs. You used to give me hugs. Thought I was a street kid like you. Like the others you helped. Cuz you suddenly could.”

Tim sucked in as deep a breath as he could find. Barely heard the hitch in breath that wasn’t his. Still couldn’t stop talking.

“Suddenly had resources and you gave them all away to street kids like you’d been when you went on patrol. Bags of sandwiches and cash for hot meals and blankets and hugs. And I was just a dumb rich kid following you for pictures but I knew you cared. Only one who ever did. And I thought -”

The heaving sobs were dying down but the tears only grew hotter and he couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore.

“I thought I could help Bruce when you died. Honor you. But he didn’t want me. Batman didn’t want me. No one wanted me. Thought I could prove myself. Be useful. But it was never enough. It’s never enough. It never... No matter how hard I tried...”

He couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt. Vision was getting dark around the edges and suddenly the only thing he could see was Jason. He’d fallen to his knees, ten feet away, and was crying too. (When had that happened?)

“How...”

Why did the words refuse to stop?

“...could I...”

His vision was dark. Nothing left to see.

“...ever...”

Sleep finally accepted him, slurring his last words.

“...replace you?”

///

Tim was warm. Wrapped in soft warm. His face hurt but at least it was smashed into a pillow.

Actually, most of his body felt achy. He wasn’t catching the flu was he? He had deadlines. Or was this from his last fight? He couldn’t be bothered to search the memory banks right now.

Make sure nothing’s broken, his training reminded him, test yourself carefully.

Right. Yeah. Gotta make sure he’s mobile in case something happens.

Tim slowly shifted in his bed. Flexing muscles and extending arms and legs to make sure they worked. No sharp pains or restricting bandages - a good sign. One foot popped out from under the blanket and the cold air made him whine.

Before he could pull it back a large hand rested on his ankle, and he relaxed at the touch. He wanted to keep that touch as long as possible.

“Tim?” asked a sleep-blurred voice.

“Bruce.”

His voice sounded terrible. No wonder, with all that crying he’d done. (Oh. There’s the memories.) He coughed into his pillow to clear his throat, and earn some time. The hand left his ankle. Tim pulled his foot under the blanket quickly to dull the sting of loss.

Bruce had been sitting at the corner of his bed, likely dozing against the footboard, but now he stood and passed Tim a handkerchief which he accepted gratefully.

His face felt better after wiping away the tear tracks and expelling a disgusting amount of mucus. He tossed the soiled cloth straight into the laundry hamper, and whispered “thanks” as he sat up.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce whispered back before sitting directly beside Tim and enveloping him in a hug.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. How long had it been since he was held? The ache slowly seeped out of him and his eyes prickled. (No! Don’t cry again, he’ll pull away!)

He didn’t pull away, just held on tighter.

“You matter a great deal to me, Tim.”

What?

“I’m sorry for not saying it more. Or, at all, I guess. Words aren’t something I think to use, but I should know better by now how important it is to say these things out loud.”

Bruce shifted enough to let Tim use his arms, which he immediately wrapped around Bruce’s waist, clinging tight as he could. And when fingers started carding through Tim’s hair he melted.

“I love you like a son. I definitely want you here, and would like to adopt you, if you’re willing.”

Tim was shaking again. He was getting more tears and snot on Bruce’s shirt. And he still wanted him? He was wanted?

“Tim?” The hand in his hair froze, uncertain.

“Yes!” He couldn’t do much more than gasp the word. “Yes, please. Please.”

The muscles wrapped around him relaxed and held him closer. He felt Bruce’s cheek rest on top of his head, a warm drop of tears, and quiet words:

“My son.”

///

Alfred entered a few minutes later with a tray, which he set on the bedside table, and left with a “Glad to see you’re well, Master Timothy.” He didn’t acknowledge how Tim was still wrapped up in Bruce’s arms, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

The tray held three large glasses of water, a simple sandwich designed to be easy on an empty stomach, and a cup of blueberries.

Tim stared longingly at the water, suddenly feeling every inch of dehydration. But he also knew it would be physically painful to let go of Bruce right now.

The decision was made for him. Bruce gently pulled Tim to sit beside him so both their backs rested against the headboard, leaving an arm draped over his shoulders, while the other reached over to balance the food tray on his lap and pass him the first glass of water.

(How can water taste this good?) He chugged the whole glass and grabbed for the sandwich, eating half before his stomach finally gurgled in protest at the sudden attention, and slowed down.

“So...” he leaned into Bruce’s side but focused intently on the blueberries. “You watched the security footage in my office.”

“Yes.”

He fought to hold in the sigh, waiting for a lecture or questions.

“But only after Jason yelled at me for an hour about the need to show abused children some affection and positive attention on occasion.”

“He... what?” That didn’t sound like Jason. More like... (it sounded like his old Robin.)

Bruce nodded. “Said if I was going to keep letting children live in my house I should at least be aware of their mental state and needs. I understand that my own mental state was... not good, when you first entered this household, and I’d like to apologize for what I put you through. And Alfred, I’ll apologize to him later as well. But that doesn’t excuse me ignoring your needs for these last few years. I will work to improve this line of communication, and I hope you will tell me when you need something as well.”

“Okay,” he said weakly. This was already so much more than he thought would happen. (And Jason was standing up for him?) “Um... where is Jason?”

“In his room. I believe Cass is outside his door mimicking a gargoyle.”

The visual almost made him laugh. “And um, was he the one who moved me here?”

“No, that was Duke. Jason refused to be near you, saying you told him not to.”

Tim squinted at his memories trying to find that moment, and decided it must have been when he screamed "don’t" after falling. Even when he would be fully unaware, Jason respected his wishes. That was a good sign.

Didn’t mean he wanted to be alone in a room with him anytime soon, but it was a good sign. Maybe a start to healing.

Bruce shifted in such a small way Tim knew he was nervous. Looking at his face confirmed it.

“If...” Bruce let out a heavy sigh, and held Tim a little closer before continuing. “This is your home,” he restarted. “And you should feel safe in your home. If you wish, I can talk to Jason about finding him an apartment in the city, away from you.”

A freight train worth of emotions hit Tim square in the gut. No one had ever offered to care about him like this before. Confusion, hope, fear, love? How was he supposed to react?

“I...” his mind was reeling. “I think... I’d like to talk to Jason first. Maybe... set some boundaries? And then, if he can’t keep them, then... yes.”

Tim could feel the relief in the way Bruce sagged. He knew just how much it meant to Bruce to have Jason back, purposefully working on self-improvement, but he also knew Bruce would never forgive himself if Jason attacked one of them again after being allowed home.

And despite what the others said, Tim did have a sense of self-preservation. He would think up a list of reasonable boundaries (never alone together, no sudden movements, don’t stand between him and the exit when possible) and see how well Jason could keep them.

He’d done similarly with Damian, during the kid’s Year of Atonement, and they’d built a much better relationship since then...

Tim thought of how Jason responded to reminders of his time as Robin. On his knees in tears.

There was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this with the intention of Jason giving comfort, but then the characters said "nope! That's not how we work!" and Bruce was left to comfort his kid while Jason went "I'll be in my room making no noise and pretending I don't exist." Don't worry, he accepts every boundary Tim has, and they slowly get better.


End file.
